


Tell Me Something Wonderful

by monopolizeme



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Time, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 17:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monopolizeme/pseuds/monopolizeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles grins. It’s huge and stupid and splits across his face and his eyebrows are scrabbling up into his hairline and his face is beginning to hurt from stretching the skin so absurdly. People are watching them, of course they are because how could they <i>not</i>, with Derek standing there dark and beautiful and right there at the school entrance.</p><p>And Stiles doesn’t even care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me Something Wonderful

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by an adorable piece of Sterek fanart. [Do see it](http://finduilasclln.tumblr.com/post/47448652744/)! :) Also posted to my [tumblr](http://mydearsourwolf.tumblr.com/post/49872358456/).

They’re laughing at him. He’s standing by his locker door and pulling his shirt up over his head, arms tangling momentarily in the cloth as he tugs and squirms in the complicated fabric that is his shirt and he can hear his team mates chuckling around him. It’s not a mocking kind of laughter, they are not laughing  _at_  Stiles and Danny is watching him with a fond smile and he seems so amused by it all. Jackson is regarding Stiles as if he is still a bit of an idiot, but that’s Jackson and nothing new there, but it is not a total condescending look – Jackson is still the same asshole that he was before but now they’re... acquaintances, in some kind of odd way, now that Jackson is pack, even though he’ll never admit to it out loud.

There is a red and swollen bruise forming at the back of Stiles’ neck, where his neck and shoulder meet and he hears Greenberg laugh around a grin that Stiles catches sight of when he pops his head free through the neckline.

"Well now," he crows, sounding like a proud big brother and it’s almost disconcerting to hear Greenberg talk like that, since Greenberg rarely talks to him at all. "Looks like our little Stiles is all grown-up."

Scott rolls his eyes, muttering something beneath his breath as he jabs Stiles in the ribs and Stiles gives out a squawk because he’s still sore and tender from the night before.

But Stiles doesn’t care. Doesn’t care about Jackson or Danny or Greenberg or the rest of his teammates who keep grinning over at him like he’s won some sort of prize. There are bite marks across his collarbone and behind his ear and at the inside of his left wrist because Derek loves to use his  _teeth_  and last night he had stopped holding back, had marked Stiles like he was something that belonged to him _, finally_  and Stiles had urged him on, fingers clinging in his hair, gasping wetly whenever Derek sank blunt human teeth into his skin, already flushed and oversensitive.

And now Stiles was marked all over and not caring in the least, in fact grinning like an idiot because Derek had  _wanted_  him, finally, and it hadn’t just been for wild frantic and desperate sex like Stiles had thought, had feared, when they stumbled into Derek’s apartment after barely surviving another incident with god damn werewolves,  _again_  and Derek had grabbed Stiles by the back of his neck and just hauled him in, mouth hard and rough and demanding as Stiles clutched at the tattered remains of Derek’s shirt, fingers scrambling over newly sewn skin and bone and Stiles had tried to say, had _tried_ , "Are you sure-" and Derek had growled into his mouth, licked his way in and shoved Stiles up against the wall. And Stiles had bruised so easily beneath his hands, was already bruised and bleeding above his eye and that made things a little difficult to see, but Derek had smeared a thumb across his brow as his hand shook and he buried his face into Stiles’ throat, slick with someone else's blood.

"Don’t you dare say no," he had breathed out in a voice that sounded wrecked, already on the edge of collapsing into itself and Stiles had grabbed at Derek’s arms, trying to twist against his body and shove away from the wall and Derek had moved only an inch, body still flush against Stiles, and Stiles had said, "No, no, just not here, not up against a wall-" and Derek had dragged him into the bed room.

He was still there the next morning, sprawled out on his stomach beneath the sheets all tangled and bunched around his waist, one arm curled loosely over Stiles’ stomach. Stiles was still smeared in bits of blood and his body ached horribly, because he was still human and being hurled to the ground by a pack of rogue alphas left him bruised and sore despite how much he protested to the contrary. And Derek hadn’t been gentle the night before and Stiles hadn’t wanted him to be either. Because being bruised by Derek made him feel real, tangible and something  _alive_  that  _could_  be broken. But Derek was gentle now, breathing  soft and damp into his throat and when Stiles had scratched his nails against Derek’s scalp he had made a pleased rumble that vibrated against Stiles’ chest.

"This is okay then?" Stiles asked hesitantly, because he had been afraid that Derek wouldn’t like this, waking up to Stiles still naked in his bed. They had only just started this friends thing – allies or whatever it was called – and although Stiles had always wanted more, he had never dared to ask.

"You have school." Derek mumbled against his skin and his stubble scratched and burned slightly, reminding Stiles of last night, the way he had caught up Stiles’ wrists and stretched them above his head and the way that had burned all the way through his too-tender muscles.

"Yeah."

"Hm." Derek nodded, mouth skimming across Stiles’ collarbone. "Your jeep’s still in the woods. I’ll take you."

And Stiles had asked again, "Is this okay?" because his brain was a scattered mess and he needed to know if he was supposed to leave now or if this was okay, to card his fingers through Derek’s hair, still slightly matted with blood at the edges and if he was allowed to touch the corner of Derek’s elbow and feel where the bone joined and the smooth skin. He needed to know if he was allowed to keep Derek, if Derek planned on keeping him in return.

But then Derek was pushing up on his elbow and his mouth was on Stiles’, warm and open and slow and not at all like last night.

"It’s okay. Stiles, stop freaking out it’s  _okay_."

And now Stiles is grabbing his bag as he shuffles into his plaid button-down and he manages to toss a "Bye, Scott!" over his shoulder, because when Derek had dropped him off at school this morning he had held Stiles by the back of his neck and kissed him soft and open and murmured into his mouth, "I’ll pick you up when you’re done." Stiles’ lips were still red and swollen and his brain was still trying to kick-start back into intelligence and he had managed to mutter, "Right."

It’s 3:17pm now and Stiles is officially two minutes late and he’s scrambling and tripping down the hallways, skipping steps and trying his best (and failing) not to smash into random people whenever he wheels around the corner and all but catapults his way through the closed doors of the school’s entrance. And his heart is thudding in his throat and vibrating through his ribcage and this is stupid, really, he’s acting like he’s still in a life-or-death chase and of course Derek wouldn’t be impatient after only two minutes a delay and up and leave,  _of course_.

He barrels through the doors and almost trips down the top step as he jolts to a stop, because Derek is leaning against the hood of his Camaro, arms crossed easily across his chest, black glasses perched upon his nose. He tilts his head down slightly to peer at Stiles over them.

"Jackson go rogue and threaten to eat you again?"

Stiles grins. It’s huge and stupid and splits across his face and his eyebrows are scrabbling up into his hairline and his face is beginning to hurt from stretching the skin so absurdly. People are watching them, of course they are because how could they  _not_ , with Derek standing there dark and beautiful and right there at the school entrance.

And Stiles doesn’t even care.

He all but vaults down the steps and throws himself at Derek, who laughs and draws his arms away from his chest in time to catch Stiles and Stiles has his arms looped around Derek’s neck, his book bag discarded somewhere near their ankles, maybe.

"You’re amazing, this is absolutely wonderful," Stiles beams, mouth so close to Derek’s and he tastes a hint of coffee as he opens his mouth and breathes in deep. Derek’s hands have curled around his waist, beneath his shirt and there is beautiful contact of skin on skin, and Derek’s hands always feel like they’re going to burn imprints. He shivers deliciously.

"You’re crazy, you know that?" says Derek, but he’s still smiling.

"Hm," Stiles nods lazily and heavy-lidded, drawing Derek’s glasses from his nose and dangling them over his shoulder. "Are people watching us? Tell me they are, tell me they’re staring."

Derek brushes his nose against the tip of Stiles’, eyelids lowering as they focus on the curve of Stiles’ mouth.

"I think you hit your head harder than I thought."

But Stiles is too far gone to care right now. He knows that when he settles down later this will all seem absolutely absurd and he’ll probably feel stupid and embarrassed and Derek with tease him about it mercilessly. And that’s okay, that’s fine. Right now he just wants to kiss Derek and have everyone here to see it.

"Are they?" he murmurs, his voice lowering and he doesn’t mean for that to happen. "Are they watching?"

Derek smiles soft, like it’s just for Stiles to see, and he allows Stiles to lean in and right before Stiles’ mouth settles on his own he says, "They’re all watching us, now give them something to be jealous about."


End file.
